


Blueys, Bets and Budgie Smugglers

by Star58



Series: A Series of Misunderstandings [4]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, Shenko - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-30
Updated: 2011-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star58/pseuds/Star58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The continuing vacation adventures of Tris Shepard and Kaidan Alenko involving bets and an itsy bitsy bathing suit...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blueys, Bets and Budgie Smugglers

A light wind ruffled the fringe of plants growing alongside the small terrace, its crisp tang mingling with the sweet smell of tropical flowers.  It blew across the small patio, tugging gently at the hair and clothes of the two occupants, stirring them out of their post-lunch somnolence and into action. Tris responded first, reaching up to brush her short blonde hair out of her eyes.

The gust continued its dance along the deck, nudging at napkins, tablecloths, and the pages of the old fashioned paperback book she’d had been reading.  Breezes were common in the late afternoon and its presence reminded her to check the time.  She glanced briefly into the room behind her, stretching to see the private terminal screen with its prominent time display. It was nearly 1500 hours; almost time for the Paradiso Cielo Crab Competition. The contest, in which spectators took turns choosing and attempting to race large and spindly-legged crustaceans, was apparently a venerated weekly tradition at the resort. Part of the draw seemed to be the frequency with which races ended in disaster given the tendency of the massive crabs to close in mortal combat over the slimy prize of chum and algae offered as a finish line enticement.

Beside her Kaidan finally opened his eyes, pulling himself up into a sitting position and turning to smile drowsily at Tris.

 “I can’t believe how sleepy I am. Must be the food.”

 “Yeah and all I had was a salad. I didn’t think a salad could do that to you,” Tris remarked.

 Kaidan grinned.  “I didn’t either. Not that I would know. Still, your lunch didn’t look all that filling to me although to be honest, I’m not sure I recognized half of what was on your plate.”

“I told you. Earth Heritage lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers.  Just like my grandmother used to grow.  Whenever I got a chance to visit her, she insisted I eat my veggies.  She figured it wouldn’t hurt for a spacer kid like me to see what she was missing. Then again, maybe she hoped it would convince me to become a colonist like she was.”  She was reminded of the farming jokes her Aunt used to tell.  Smirking at the memory, she added, “And my Aunt Amelie always used to say that cucumbers provided many good reasons for living on a colony farm.”  She hadn’t understood until she was older why her mother had always laughed at this. _Ah yes, Auntie A. had certainly had reasons to like gardening.  One hundred and one to be exact.  One hundred and one reasons why a cucumber is better than a man…_

He looked at her quizzically. She shook her head. “Old family joke.  Girls only.”

“Ah.  Then I’m guessing that I really don’t want to know.”

“No. You _really_ don’t. Might hurt your feelings.”  She rose to her feet.  “So, we’d talked about going to that Crab Race thingy this afternoon. Still want to?”

A short time later they were winding their way down the resort’s wooden promenade towards the casino with occasional stops to window shop – an inevitable activity since, much like a magpie, Tris was attracted to bright hues and shiny objects.  So it wasn’t all that surprising to find herself drawn to a window display featuring intensely colored tropical shirts paired with a type of men’s swimsuit which the locals referred to as “budgie smugglers.” 

The swimsuits were small and clearly skin tight; she figured Kaidan would look fabulous in one although she also knew he probably wouldn’t be caught dead in it. And being honest, she admitted to herself that most of the men she’d seen wearing them at beach were aging Lotharios – “old danglys” as the locals called them -- with more bulging body parts than fashion sense.   

Kaidan, who’d been idly looking at a fishing gear display in an adjacent window, suddenly realized that Tris seemed unusually absorbed by the display in front of her and looked over to see what had caught her eye. She was staring at an extremely bright green and turquoise swimsuit. At first he thought only the bottoms were on display, which he found odd, but then he realized the tiny suit was in fact intended as _male_ attire; a perception confirmed as Tris turned to look at him, her eyes running rapidly over his body.  He stepped back, a look of dismay crossing his face as he divined her intent.

“Don’t even think about it.  It’s _not_ happening,” he said.

“What?” Her face took a look of extreme innocence.  “Oh. The suits.  Well, I think you’d look _terrific_. You know. Hot. Sexy. _Edible.”_

“Great. Hot and sexy. Well…”

“ _And edible.”_  She licked her lips suggestively and rubbed against him, sliding her hands up his chest and up the back of his neck into his hair.   

He laughed, grabbing at her hands and holding her away so he could look at her. “I appreciate that.  Really. But honestly, Tris why would you even think I’d _consider_ wearing one of those things? I mean it would be like _me_ suggesting you wear one of those thongs you were disparaging on the beach the other day.” 

“It’s not at all the same! You’d look great and everything would essentially be covered.  I’d just be…exposed.” She gave him a mock glare which he pretended not to notice as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and marched her down the walkway.

“C’mon you! No sense in arguing about clothes when the crabs are waiting for us.” 

They walked on, the discussion of thongs vs. budgie smugglers dropped but not forgotten. 

\----------------------------------------- 

The casino’s largest bar opened out onto the beach. A small crowd, most with drinks in hand, milled about the array of wooden tracks placed on the sand. .  Each track stood approximately human waist-high with five crab-sized slots at one end and a small pile of chum and seaweed at the other.  Spectators wandered from track to track watching and cheering the on-going crab activities.

As Tris and Kaiden made their way across the room, heading for the beach, they were greeted by a nearby waiter.  “G’day. Ya here for the crab races?”

Upon receiving affirmative nods he continued, “G’donya. They’re out that way.” He gestured towards a wide portico opening onto the beach.  “Best get a dog up ya before ya go; the races go down better that way.” This seemed like sage advice, so they made their way to the bar to grab a couple of beers before heading outside to acquire crabs. 

A crab “wrangler” and his assistants stood on the far side of the tracks, taking in racing fees and presiding over several enormous shallow drums, presumably filled the day’s contestants. Tris and Kaidan made their way to the waiting area for wannabe crab racers, drinking beer and watching the crowds swirling about the tubs. The air was filled with the cheerful sounds of people laughing and joking as well as steady pounding and thumping noises drifting over from the race tracks.

The line to the tubs moved quickly. “Pick yer crab! Pick yer crab right here!” the wrangler called, waving at them.  They stepped forward, joining the semi-circle of potential sponsors staring into a sea of writhing carapaces and legs.  Tris remembered seeing pictures of Earth’s Dungeness crabs. These crabs had bodies which looked at least half again as big with legs that were nearly the length of her forearm. 

“Why are they all together? I thought they liked to fight each other!” she whispered to Kaidan.

She was overheard by one of the assistants. “Most of ‘em don’ fight unless they smell food or it’s spawning season. We keep ‘em in the buckets together to save space. And those that do like to fight, we keep by themselves. He pointed to a couple of tubs containing solitary crabs.

After watching the sea of moving bodies for a few moments, Tris noticed a large blue crab covered with bright orange spikes skating rapidly around the outer edge of the crab container on long, heavy-looking legs, expertly avoiding collision and the occasionally outstretched claw.  Tris bent forward to better observe its movement and then turned to Kaidan, “This one looks good.”

“Don’t think so, Shepard. This one looks better,” Kaidan said, pointing to a spiny red crab making a valiant effort to climb out of the tub. He turned to the wrangler, “I’ll take him.” 

"The wrangler looked from one to the other. “Ok, so ya want Bluey there.  D’ya want th’ other one too?”

Tris and Kaidan spoke up simultaneously, “No!”

“Ok, then. One crab coming up!”

“I knew you’d come around,” Tris said looking happily up at Kaidan.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?  He asked if we were going to take the blue crab and you agreed!”

“No, he asked if we were going to take _Bluey._ He meant the red crab!”

“ _I see.”_ Her tone reflected her annoyance at being caught by another of the locals’ frustrating and rather obtuse bits of slang.  Turning to the wrangler, she said, “I want the true blue crab. And if he,” Tris pointed at Kaidan, “wants that pitiful red thing, he’s welcome to it.”

The wrangler, long inured to the spirited and occasionally aggressive behavior the contest seemed to inspire in both sponsors and crustaceans, ignored the insult, saying instead, “Ya paying in cash or charging the race to your room?” 

“Room please. Cielo Sereno 25,” Kaidan replied, grinning.

The wrangled nodded, efficiently capturing the two crabs with a pair of oversized tongs and dumping each into a wooden box with air holes and a handle across the top. He handed a crab box to each of them. “Here ya go. Yer on Track 3. Don’ forget to name ‘em!”

As they made their way across the sand, Kaidan said, “So you really think that puny crab of yours can beat my Crabzilla?”

Tris laughed, “Crabzilla is it?  Well, maybe you didn’t notice but _Crabzilla_ has a crack in his hard suit. I don’t think much of his chances of survival given how many times these things end with a crab brawl.”

Kaidan stopped, crossing his arms as he looked down at her. “Care to make a small wager on that?”

“You’re on marine! What stakes are you offering?”  

“A private bet.”  He took a swig of beer, his eyes twinkling.

“Which is?”  A slight edge crept into her voice.

“If Crabzilla wins you have to wear thongs... thong...whatever.  But i _n public._ ”

She glared at him. “Oo…you were just _waiting_ for this weren’t you?” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “I _hate_ the feeling of a strip of material riding up my butt!”

He chuckled at her outraged expression.  “Well _you_ wanted _me_ to wear a budgie smuggler!  And I’ll tell you what.  If you’re _really_ lucky I won’t show Joker the picture I take of you wearing it”

“Don’t you _dare_ even joke about that! “  Then her fierce look shifted into one of wicked glee.  “Tell you what. If my Sir Crabsalot beats your Crabzilla, then _you_ have to wear a budgie smuggler and go swimming with me.  And I _will_ show Joker the picture _I_ take unless you make it very worth my while not to do so!”   

Kaidan glanced back towards the monster-sized crab he had chosen. “There’s _no way_ that puny crab of yours is going to win this! Crabzilla is _clearly_ the superior crab!

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah!” 

Kaidan raised an eyebrow at the defiance in her tone, a smile lurking about his lips. She continued to extol the virtues of her crab as they made their way to the track, doing her best to exude an air of complete confidence in Sir Crabsalot’s abilities.  As they approached the group clustered about Track 3 however, her assurance wavered as she became aware of several rather brawny crustaceans waiting in the two large holding pens at one side. She noticed one crab in particular, whose physical attributes included a right claw of immense size and whose separation from the other contestants left no doubt in her mind as to is combative nature.  Two crab wranglers came forward and took charge of their crabs, releasing them into a large holding pen at one end of the track. Tris watched carefully, making sure that Sir Crabsalot wasn’t damaged in the process.

“Oy! You’re racing that puny blue thing here? The speaker, a short stubby man with beady eyes standing next to the track, looked up at their approach, peering at Tris over the rim of a pair of extra large black sunglasses.  “No way can that scrawny crab win.”

Kaidan snickered quietly. “Told ya so.”

In response, Tris stepped backwards, discretely jabbing at him with her elbow.  He sidestepped, tangling her foot with his, catching her neatly at the last minute.  Straightening, she muttered, “Good thing you thought twice about that, mister!” and turned to advance on Stubby. She didn’t get much farther than opening her mouth however, when another man chimed in. “Yeah your crab is pretty much doomed. Crusher there,” he said gloomily pointing to the isolated crab with the oversized claw, “has beaten or eaten at least one crab in every race he’s been in for the past few days!”  He brightened, “But then, so has my Robocrab!” 

Never one to back down, Tris snapped, “Then I guess they must be pretty tired by now from all that racing. Not to mention, _full_.  I, on the other hand, have a crab fresh from the barrel.  Rested, refreshed and quite, quite hungry.  As _your_ crabs are about to find out!”  She smirked sweetly and took a sip of her beer.

The two men exchanged knowing glances but before they could continue advance their argument further, a tiny black-haired woman stepped forward, putting out her hand.  “Hi, I’m Kathryn. I’m racing Crabarella over there.” She pointed to a fat black crab lodged in the nearby holding pen.  Its legs were considerably shorter and sturdier than those of the other crabs, making it look like a Volus in the midst of a crowd of Turians.  “The two louts you’ve heard from but haven’t actually met are Buck,” she pointed at Stubby, “and Lon.”  From the way she glanced over towards the two men as she spoke, it was apparent she intended them to hear her.

“Who ya callin’ a lout ya old chook?”  Buck retorted.  He stepped between Lon and Kaidan, looking from one to the other in a manner that clearly communicated his expectation that the men would stick together and gestured towards the two women.  “Here mates, these sheilas’ll be easy meat.  Just look at the crabs they picked. Little dainty suckers.  Probly picked them for their pretty colours.”

“Fair dinkum, they don’t stand a chance.” Lon nodded sagely.

“Whoever heard of sheilas not being scared of crabs anyhow?” Buck went on.  The two men looked at each other, cackling companionably. Both glanced over at Kaidan, anticipating his enjoyment of their witty banter and were surprised to find him looking at Tris, a concerned expression on his face. 

"What...you're letting a sheila wear the pants? She's got you by the short and curlies mate!" Buck's tone was challenging. 

Kaidan grinned wryly, his eyes still on Tris. “Not bloody likely!  But then I’m used to working with tough women. Women that can chew up a Krogan and spit it out.  I think this one will surprise you.” 

“I suppose,” Buck conceded looking back at Kaidan, “but that one doesn’t look like much.”

“What about that Shepard sheila?” Lon spoke up, clearly wanting to be included in the conversation.

“Pull the other one Lon,” Buck replied. “When it comes to crab racing she’d be like all the other sheilas – useless as a one legged man at an arse kicking contest.”

“Yeah, she’d probably be runnin’ around like a hairy goat at the thought of touching a crab."  They slapped each other on the back, hooting and laughing at their own drollery.  

Kaidan choked. "You don't believe the stories about Commander Shepard?" he asked the other two males.

"Nah, mate. No sheila’s like that. And if she _had_ done all they reckon, no one’d touch her with a ten foot pole figuring she’s got steel balls hangin’ between her legs."

Kaidan put out a restraining arm but Tris surprised him by stepping back and saying, "Pull ya head in mate. The lights are on but no-one’s home. Shepard would have your guts for garters if she heard you."  She spoke calmly making no attempt to hide her off-world accent. 

“And here you’ve been pretending you didn’t understand the locals!” Kaidan laughed, shaking his head. She shrugged, her eyes never leaving the other two men.

Buck and Lon bristled but before they could respond, the track’s assigned wrangler stepped forward, “Oy! Are your crabs ready to race?”  He walked briskly around the track handing each sponsor a pair of heavy gloves. “Best put these on.  The crab won’t bother you but you’ll need these once you start encouraging ‘em.”  He waited until the group was ready before continuing.  “So ‘ere are the rules.  Put yer crab behind a starting gate.  There’s no assigned gates; just put ’em at whichever one is closest.  When I fire ‘ol Woody here,” he waved a flare gun with a wooden butt in the air, “you’ll let ‘em go and start doing whatever you can to encourage ‘em to move forward.  You can clap, pound on the track, scream, shout or yell, but you can’t hit the track near anyone else’s crab and you can’t touch any of ‘em.  If you do, your crab will be disqualified.” 

Tris raced forward to pick up Sir Crabsalot. Holding him carefully away from her she hurried back and placed him in the first slot.  Lon and Kaidan were next, jostling each other for slot number two, each clearly intending the other’s crab as a buffer between themselves and Crusher.  Only Kathryn held back, waiting for the other crabs to be place before carefully picking up Crabarella and placing her at the fifth gate.

“Prepare to be humiliated, Shepard!”

“Ha! You clearly need your eyes examined! Didn’t you see Sir Crabsalot racing around the tub earlier? He looped the tub twice before your Crabzilla here even untangled his feet! “

“Shepard?!”  Lon, overhearing the conversation looked startled.  “Not… _not_... _Holy…_ Shepard!? Savior of the Citadel Shepard?!”

Tris smiled sweetly.  “Well Kaidan here might be willing to affirm that I _can_ be rather _divine_ but don’t know if I’d use the word “holy.”

Lon’s face scrunched up, his expression puzzled as his eyes went back and forth between Tris and Kaidan, “Yeah, but are you really…?”

The crack of a flare being fired from ol’ Woody brought their attention abruptly back to the race.  The starting signal was shortly followed by the thrumming sound of stomping feet and clapping hands.  The din around the track rose as spectators pressed forward, shouting out jibes and encouragement both to the racers and at each other. 

Even with the sudden increase in noise, the crabs sat in their respective slots unmoving.  Tris began to clap, positioning herself behind Sir Crabsalot and pulling off her gloves in hopes of creating a sharper and louder noise to spur him to action but he ignored her. Then Robocrab moved slowly forward and down the middle of the track, taking the lead. He was followed by Crusher, Crabzilla and Crabarella. 

Kaidan yelled, clapping and pounding his hands on the track, encouraging Crabzilla to even greater speed, looking back for a second to shoot a triumphant grin towards Tris whose crab remained at the gate. She ignored him in favor of concentrating on Sir Crabsalot, swearing in exasperation as the crab refused to budge, its beady orange eyes moving from side to side as if looking for a viable escape route.

Finally, disgusted, she slammed her hands onto the track directly behind the crab. “You vicious mole of nature, get moving!” she snarled.  The sound seemed to startle Sir Crabsalot out of his lethargy for he leaped into the air and took off, his long legs flying out from his sides as he scrabbled away from the noisy monster behind him.  Tris smiled jubilantly as he began gaining on the others.  “See?  I told you he could move!” she hissed at Kaidan.

Robocrab continued to lead the pack, scuttling rapidly towards the stinky prize awaiting him at the far end of the track. Crusher, not to be outdone, dashed after, seemingly buoyed by Buck’s raucous support.  He began to catch up but Robocrab sensing his approach, whipped around, snapping his claws together warningly. Several bystanders, sensing disaster, shouted joyfully and soon other bystanders began flocking to the track, laughing and exchanging bets on the outcome of the impending debacle.

The two crabs ignoring everything but the primal urge for dominance began to feint, waving their large front claws in attempts to connect with the other’s softer body parts. They circled each other, their feet clicking on the wooden track and large claws snapping closed. The crowd noise grew louder as the crabs engaged more closely. Finally, Crusher succeeded in grabbing one of Robocrab’s back legs, his big claw thumping shut with a vicious crack.  Robocrab jumped back leaving a bit of leg behind.

Buck and Lon swore simultaneously, reaching down to bang the track directly beneath the two crabs. Distracted by the track’s vibration, they separated, but it was several moments before they began moving forward again.  Unfortunately for both Robocrab and Crusher however, the damage had been done. During their fray the other three crabs had zipped past them and were now advancing on the smelly prize at the far end.

Tris’s confidence in Sir Crabsalot’s speed had not been misplaced. He’d made up for his reluctance to start by scuttling rapidly forward down the track, catching up with the other crabs while dexterously avoiding the conflict in the center of the raceway.  Tris clapped her hands together hard right behind him and he dashed past Crabzilla, Crabarella trailing behind.

“Ha! Prepare to wear a budgie smuggler!” she shouted gleefully.

“Not. Happening.” Kaidan grunted, pounding even harder on the side of the wooden track.  Crabzilla had nearly reached the prize and seemed to sense it for his speed increased as he scrabbled forward in a final, valiant effort to reach the tempting treats first.  Crabarella also picked up her pace, her awkward gait causing her to sway back and forth as she ran. She pounded past Crabzilla but as she reached Sir Crabsalot, her feet became tangled in each other and she fell sideways, the momentum carrying her directly into his path.  She came up underneath, knocking him off four of his six legs.  He tottered and slowed, allowing Crabzilla to shoot forward into the pile of chum for the win.

The crowd of spectators surrounding Track 3 went wild over the race’s rather climactic finish. They hooted and clapped as the crab wrangler grabbed Kaidan’s right arm, hoisting it into the air.  “Free drinks for the win and you’re in the winner’s pool for a chance to win an all-expense paid three day adventure in the Wilds!”

Tris heard Kaidan’s voice addressing her over the din.  “So Shepard, prepare to wear the thong!  I’ll even buy you a drink if you think it will help!”

\------------------------------------------

The morning sun poured through the window coverings of Cielo Serena 25.  Tris was first to wake.  She stretched for a moment and then curled back down into the drowsy warmth snuggling next to Kaidan. 

He pulled her into his arms, his hands moving down to stroke her back. She nuzzled his neck, cuddling closer for a moment and then rolled over.

“What’s the matter?” Kaidan asked. He turned towards her, putting an arm across her stomach.                                                    

“I think you know.”  She slid out of bed, tossing on her robe and heading into the bathroom. She returned to find Kaidan also out of bed and sitting on the couch in the room’s living area, a large bag displaying the name of the resort’s most popular swimwear shop beside him.  He grinned wickedly as she looked from him, to the bag and back at him again.

“Sir Crabsalot lost yesterday…” he began, his eyes twinkling.

“Don’t remind me!” She looked at him miserably. “I _know_ what’s in the bag.”

“Well we _did_ have a bet as you might remember.”  

“I know.” She sighed, “Alright, do your worst. I’ll wear the damn thong and you can take a picture. But if you _ever_ even _think_ of showing it to Joker, I’ll find out and…and…”

He placed a finger across her lips, stopping her from going further. “Don’t you want to see what I bought first?”

“Not really.”

“Sure you do!”  He reached into the bag and pulled out a rectangular box, handing it to her.  It wasn’t the exactly the shape or size she’d expected.  She opened it cautiously, not sure what she would find.  Inside was a pair of bright pink flip flops, their wide thong straps covered with colorful beaded flowers.

She looked at him wonderingly.

“Thong…thongs…the word has several different meanings here, Shepard.”  He grinned broadly, his smile turning to laughter at her pouty glare.  “I had you going there, didn’t I?”

“You did and if these weren’t shoes - which you _know_ I love - I’d be inclined to make you pay rather dearly.” 

“Hmmm…so don’t you think my behavior should be rewarded?  Acknowledgement of positive behavior…reinforcement…you know, the Alliance Officers Training Manual suggests that can be a _good_ thing.” He raised an eyebrow at her suggestively.

She smiled and slid into his lap. “Reinforcement for good behavior, is it? Now what behavior would that be?  Tricking me? I don’t think _that’s_ such good behavior!”

“I was thinking more about outcome ma’am. My gentlemanly behavior in keeping your… _dignity_ intact.”

“Oh, so that’s what it was.” She nodded thoughtfully.  “Well, maybe…just _maybe_ you have a point. So as to _reinforcement,_ what are you thinking?  Something like a cookie?” 

He shook his head. She cocked her head slightly, studying him, then slowly undid her robe, allowing it to slide around her shoulders and fall to the ground.  “So, perhaps this is what you had in mind?”

He nodded and rose, lifting her in his arms to carry her back to the bed.


End file.
